


How Molly and Sherlock met

by GoodDalekPeppergrinderfromdowntheRiver



Series: Sherlolly (if you squint) [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Sherlock deduces Molly, Sherlock is a little bit insensitive with his deductions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-03
Updated: 2016-07-03
Packaged: 2018-07-19 21:36:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7378285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoodDalekPeppergrinderfromdowntheRiver/pseuds/GoodDalekPeppergrinderfromdowntheRiver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Shussh, let me finish," he replied, now walking around her in circles, eyes still piercing her. "Red lipstick. The color doesn't really suit you and I think you know too, because you tried to rub it off then reapplied it. Though your wearing it to get the attention of someone – anyone. It does not matter, you are desperate. After your ex broke up with you … 2 – 3 weeks ago. You actually like your job even though you have to deal with dead people and you have a cat. You came to work by train this morning and the guy besides you split coffee on you whilst reading the daily mail and when you get home, you make yourself a microwave dinner and talk to your cat. Though some nights, you drink wine. Anything wrong?" </p><p>"it... it was the female beside me who spilt coffee on me... not the guy... but... how.. How do you know? Are you stalking me?" She wrapped her arms around her, though that did nothing to reduce the amount she felt exposed. She looked from Sherlock to Mike for an explanation. Mike shrugged and Sherlock huffed as it was all so obvious and explaining everything would be a tedious waste of time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How Molly and Sherlock met

**Author's Note:**

> This is not my first fan fiction, but it is my first Sherlock one. Hope you lot enjoy.  
> I could not think of a title.  
> It is unbeta'd so all the mistakes are mine.

  
_(3 years prior)_  
  
"Molly, this is Sherlock Holmes," said Mike Stamford with a small smile on his face. He knew very well what would happen and quite frankly, he'd gladly see Sherlock dissect another person, so long as it was not him.

  
Molly briefly looked up from the body lying on the slab in front of her.

  
"Molly Hooper, nice to meet you," she replied, staring at the tall man, with a long black coat and curly dark hair in front of her.

  
"Measles," Sherlock said plainly.

  
"Sorry?" She inquired. She was perplexed. She had expected a reply along the lines of 'Nice to meet you too,' or 'Really good weather, isn't it?' 

  
"Measles. He died of measles." Oh. She looked back to the dead man in front of her and frowned slightly. She hadn't really got a chance to examine him properly in the five minutes that she'd been looking at him. 

  
"Could be drug allergy?"

  
"But a drug allergy wouldn't kill you,"

  
"A severe one and an overdose, you never know," she replied.

  
He took a step closer and then closer look at the body.  He sighed heavily and audibly as if he was exasperated and bored. Molly picked up on this instantly and frowned. "What is it?" 

  
"People see, but do not observe. You see the rashes and I observe them. It is obviously measles. The color. The way it is situated and the amount. Though nice try." Sherlock said bluntly. The nice try came out a little sarcastic and even though Molly had just met this man, she was certain that it was sarcastic. Molly Hooper stiffened. She was having a nice day carrying out post mortems and minding her own business and all of a sudden, a stranger had entered and she was being attacked. If he had said it a little nicer, she would have just thought he was trying to help, but something about Sherlock Holmes's condescending and bored voice made her feel stupid – as if, he was the expert, and not her. 

  
"Why did you bring your friend here?" Molly had wanted it to find rude, so that he'd get the message, but she could not muster rude. Instead, her question sounded genuine.

  
"Friend, I wouldn't go so far." Mike replied, glancing at Sherlock, who didn't seem to feel offended. On the contrary, he was nodding, confirming Mike's reply.

  
"I need your help," Sherlock replied.

  
"What sort of help? What makes you sure that I am the right person to help you?"

  
"Molly Hooper. The closest you've come to criminal activity is letting the shop keeper at your local Costcutter give you one pound too much and then you went back, after feeling guilty an told him. " he said rather fast. His pale green eyes staring into hers. However, his gaze was rather intimidating It was without warmth. He looked at her as if she was a specimen under a microscope and not a human being.

  
"How- how.." She stuttered. Perhaps he... perhaps this was a trick? Maybe he talked to the shop keeper? Perhaps stalked her?

  
"Shussh, let me finish," he replied, now walking around her in circles, eyes still piercing her. "Red lipstick. The color doesn't really suit you and I think you know too, because you tried to rub it off then reapplied it. Though your wearing it to get the attention of someone – anyone. It does not matter, you are desperate. After your ex broke up with you … 2 – 3 weeks ago. You actually like your job even though you have to deal with dead people and you have a cat. You came to work by train this morning and the guy besides you split coffee on you whilst reading the daily mail and when you get home, you make yourself a microwave dinner and talk to your cat. Though some nights, you drink wine. Anything wrong?"

  
"it... it was the female beside me who spilt coffee on me... not the guy... but... how.. How do you know? Are you stalking me?" She wrapped her arms around her, though that did nothing to reduce the amount she felt exposed. She looked from Sherlock to Mike for an explanation. Mike shrugged and Sherlock huffed as it was all so obvious and explaining everything would be a tedious waste of time.

  
"So to conclude, you are the right person. No criminal intent. Desperate to impress. Enthusiastic about your work and not much of a life after work so you probably won't mind me barging in her now and again and making you work extra hours. Perfect. Oh, and the deductions were simple really. Red smudge on edge of your bottom lip, yet the lipstick is a perfect outline. You're not clumsy. Therefore robbed off. Why would a person rub off their lipstick then reapply it? Initial hesitation. But reapplied because you ignored your hesitation. So you don't think it looks good, but this is about others. People tend to be quite vulnerable just after the end of relationships hence the 2 to 3 weeks. You smell a bit of coffee, but not your breath so not your coffee and daily mail because you're fingers are a little bit dark around the edges. Different news papers tend to leave different ink patterns and different amounts of ink and so it is easy to tell which. Need I go on?"

  
"No," she replied, with indignation, fingers crossed against her chest. Her eyebrows furrowed into a small frown. The man stood before her was absolutely rude and arrogant. She had not done anything to him, yet he had waltzed into her lab, insulted her – desperate, with no life – and divulged a bunch of information that was none of his business. 

  
"If you have just come to insult me, you can leave," she said trying to sound as firm as possible, however it came out a little bit weak. Molly was angry and when she got angry, she cried a little, which made it immensely difficult when she tried to stand her ground. 

  
"No, I came to ask if you have two hearts, an ear and a foot." He asked, not taking the hint. She wanted him to go – not ask her for a favor. When he did not reply, he cleared his throat and after several seconds, said "Please," though she could tell that he did not care for manners or propriety – just thought that it would soften her a little. 

  
"You want body parts?" She asked, a little surprised.

  
"Yes," he replied, looking around her lab.

  
"No," she replied.

  
He looked at her and narrowed his gaze a little. "Actually, I was wrong with one thing. The lipstick does look nice,"

  
"Please can you get out of my lab," she said. She certainly wasn't letting this strange man walk in to her lab, insult her, ask for a favour, try to soften her with complement and get what he wanted.

  
He huffed a little and turned to Mike. "How will I be able to experiment now? I need those nicotine patches in your pocket Mike," he took the nicotine packets and stormed out.

  
"Who the hell does he think he is?" Molly asked as soon as he left.

  
"He's always like that," Mike replied.

 

  
  
  
He was back the next day. Stood in front of the doors of her lab before she even arrived. When she noticed him, her heart lurched and she was scared for a couple seconds.

  
"I need to solve a murder, so I need to use your lab," he began as soon as she was at ear shot.

  
"What if I say no?" She asked, finding the key for the doors.

  
"Molly Hooper, you can't say no. Though, hypothetically if you did, then I will stay and further deduce stuff about you,"

  
"Fine," she replied, letting him follow her in.

  
She had thought that having him working in the same lab with him would be an utterly frustrating and annoying affair. She'd probably have to assist him with using the equipment and he'd probably sigh in frustration at how slow she was being. No doubt, he'd persistently be rude for no reason and that at the end of the day, she'd find herself pulling out her hair because he was that annoying. However, she did not expect peace.

  
He went about his work in a very organized and attentive way. He hardly talked. The only sound he made was stuff he whispered to himself. However, that was so inaudible that Molly never caught just what he was saying. He seemed to know just how to manage the equipment with ease. Molly also noticed, when he pulled out a phial of liquid, that he was incredibly precise. She watched him  as he put a pipette into the phial, carefully drawing a minuscule amount of the liquid. Not a drop split. He placed the liquid carefully into a slide on the microscope and looked at it. Then he did a chemical test, in a similar fashion. Completely absorbed in what he was doing and accurate. 

  
"Arsenic poisoning," he concluded before leaving.  
  
That evening, she found herself hating herself a little. Sherlock Holmes was definitely and arsehole. However, his meticulous approach to science was a little bit attractive. 

 

 

 

  
He returned the next day. Another murder apparently. She was a bit confused by what he meant with that. Was he a detective then? Or a forensics scientist? If so, why didn't he have his own lab? Why was he using hers? She let him into her lab with a lot less resistance than the day prior. 

  
"So what do you do as a career?" She asked whilst he was operating her mass spectroscopy machine.

  
"Consulting detective for Scotland Yard," he mumbled, not taking an eye of his work.

  
"Consulting detective?" She asked, leaning in slightly to see what he was doing.

  
"Only one in the world. When the Scotland Yard are out of the depths which is always, they call me,"

  
He turned back quickly, to find her so close next to him. His eyes narrowed slightly, as if he had not realised that she was there. He walked past her to get something and then returned to his work. She felt warmth spread all over her. She opened her mouth to talk but nothing came out, so she left him to his work and carried on with her own. Hating herself more, she could not help that she found Sherlock a little bit attractive operating that mass spectroscopy.

 

"Oh, and I want those body parts Molly," he said as he left her lab.

 

She sighed soundlessly. She was going to give the strange, mysterious detective body parts. She could feel herself slowly falling.

 

She was so screwed.


End file.
